


Aglet Ornaments and Tissue Tinsel

by hilarychuff



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Pre-Hydra AU/No Hydra AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilarychuff/pseuds/hilarychuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team celebrates Christmas, but Jemma's a little bummed to be away from home for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aglet Ornaments and Tissue Tinsel

It’s her first Christmas away from home. Jemma’s lived away from home for years, of course, first at secondary and then for university and then at the Academy, not to mention working stateside in the labs, but she’s always gone home for the holidays, been able to take at least a few days to go back to England, back to her mum and dad’s house and everything that went with it. Spending time with them was always one of her favorite parts of the year, and though it did drive her a bit batty to be off work for so long, puttering around the house with little to do besides helping her mum with whatever charity function she was currently organizing or reorganizing her dad’s bookshelves again, the evenings curled up in an armchair by the fire watching her mum tinker with the ornaments on the tree were worth the restlessness. 

They always had a bit of classical Christmas music on when they were in the family room, and Annie would bring in tea and cocoa and cookies and stoke the fire, and it was so different from the tiny little shoebox flat plastered with band and Doctor Who posters and littered with trinkets that she’d carved out for herself during her stay at the Academy but it was home. Here, on the bus, there are packets of hot chocolate mix and a few tea bags tucked away in a cupboard, but that’s about where the similarities end. 

Still, though they’re on a mission – or at least on call for a mission, since they don’t seem to actually have anything to do at the moment – and they couldn’t swing any extra time off, so Coulson had decided they should have some sort of holiday celebration to keep spirits up. It’s going to be some sort of party – Jemma hasn’t been able to drag herself out to look at the decorations yet, too busy moping in her little bedroom or pretending to work on research in the lab – and they’d all been assigned Secret Santas, but it’s hard to get in the holiday spirit, for it to feel like the holidays without her usual holiday traditions. She knows on some level that Fitz is feeling the same way about not getting to see his mum, and the two Fitzes had joined the Simmonses for more than one Christmas in the past, but she still feels strange and lonely about the holidays more than anything else. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because the party is soon and she’s got to buck up and manage unless she wants to ruin the holiday for everyone else, which, for the record, she doesn’t. Skye’s been so excited to celebrate (Jemma half wonders if she’s ever had a proper Christmas before, and half feels terrible for making assumptions, but then it’s got to be an isolating holiday for an orphan when it’s so often referred to as the time for family – Jemma figures Skye has a family now, and so whether or not all she really wants is to mope in her room it’s her duty to pull herself together and make the best of things) and goodness knows they all need the break. 

She’s almost finished getting ready, smoothing out the holiday sweater she’d knitted one year over a Christmas past after anxious “relaxing” and idle hands had driven her to pick up a new hobby (and Fitz had gotten an identical one, but his has been the first attempt and so it was rather lumpy), checking that her Secret Santa gift was ready and wrapped well enough (she’d picked May, and though she wasn’t sure exactly what to get the woman who seemed so set in her life and with her belongings already – especially within the twenty dollar limit – she’d settled on knitting her her own sweater – all black, of course, as it seemed to be the only color May wore with any regularity, but with a red thread heart sewn just into the inside of the collar for a personal touch), when there’s a knock at the door. 

Sure it’s Fitz come to drag her out, she throws open the door without thinking, already halfway through an eye roll before she realizes it’s Ward standing before her, eyebrows up with half a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, Grant!” she blurts before she can stop herself, and then blushes a bit at how she’d been about to walk right through and barrel along to the party. It occurs to her then that for however much time they’ve all spent together on the bus, on missions or in the lab or in the living space, she’s not sure Ward’s ever been to her bedroom before. He’s sure to have seen it in passing – it’s hard not to with such tight quarters – but he’s never come by before and suddenly there’s a small worry that something embarrassing might be in sight, like a bra or half of some play-experiment or a letter from her mum. “Am I late? I thought I still had a few minutes before we were due in the common area.”

He breaks into a full smile and she’s sure that means he notices how nervous she feels, about her room or her things or how only slightly-less-lumpy than Fitz’s her sweater is, but he just leans against the doorway frame and pulls something from behind his back. 

“No, we’ve got a few minutes. I just had something that I wanted to give you.”

It’s something small, a wrapped box, and she reaches for it, taking it in her hands before she looks back up at him, still a bit pink in the cheeks. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to exchange Secret Santa presents until we were all together?”

“Oh, I’m not your Secret Santa. I actually drew Coulson – got him some sort of old Cap thing.” He says the second half as if it’s so easy these days to come across original Captain America merchandise, and she can’t help but jump in.

“You got him authentic Cap memorabilia? That can’t have been within the twenty dollar limit!” She’s scolding, looking at him unbelievably (because if she could’ve spent more, well, then she might’ve been able to get May something nice and more practical, something that’s not a lumpy hand-knitted sweater that’s sure to get put in a drawer and forgotten about), but he just laughs and leans over a little, hands on his hips. 

“I’m Agent Grand Ward,” he says in that same scratchy voice she and Fitz use, “and I can win any eBay bid with just three clicks.”

She can’t help but laugh and he grins, standing back up straight to lean against the doorway again. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “I just saw this while I was looking around, and figured you could use it. You’ve seemed a bit down lately” – and she cringes, embarrassed that he’s caught on, but he’s a bloody super spy so of course he has – “and I just thought a pick me up could help. Besides, now you can use this next time you need to cheat to win.”

Curious – especially about that last bit – she touches the bow on top of the box, and when he nods encouragingly she tears the rest of the wrapping off to open it up. Inside is a scrabble tile, a J (eight points) on a delicate silver chain, and she lifts it carefully out of the box to examine it further. 

“It’s lovely,” she breathes softly as she threads the chain through her fingers, and when she looks back up at him he’s just a bit more stiff than he was before, shrugging tightly and watching her carefully. “Will you…?” she asks, holding the clasp out to him, and he clears his throat before answering. 

“Sure,” he says, and then he’s taking the necklace from her as she turns around, carefully draping it in front of her throat while he fastens the claps at the back of her neck, his fingers just barely brushing the top of her spine. She nearly shivers at the feel of it, biting her lip to keep control and stay grounded, and then he’s finished, pulling back, and she turns back around to face him. 

“I really love it. Thank you, Grant.”

“Of course,” he says back, and though he’s smiling again he’s almost a little awkward, shoulders tight and standing too still and tall in the doorway. “Anyway, I’ll uh – I’ll see you in the common space in a few minutes?”

“Sure! And, Grant? Merry Christmas,” she adds quickly, and finally he relaxes a little, this time shrugging loosely, and she grins. 

“Merry Christmas, Simmons.”

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written to fulfill an AoS Exchange Ward/Simmons saving Christmas prompt. Hope you liked it!


End file.
